The city
by DistrictHeathdene
Summary: Modern AU. When Ned Stark is offered a new job in the South his daughters have to cope with the move. But with good looking boys, new friendships and drama, maybe it will be more interesting than they thought. Sansa/Sandor. Arya/Gendry. Rated M just in case.
1. Chapter 1

Sansa took a deep breath and clutched her bag tightly to her side as she stepped onto the green. A huge building rose up in front of her, made with red and cream brick with ornate carvings and spires and towers erupting from the roof. The building itself looked like something out of a fairytale; the green in front of her however was a sea of students, pulling her firmly back to the present. Clusters of people were dotted all around; eating their lunch, chattering on their phones or rushing to their classes. A group of girls walked past her giggling loudly with designer shopping bags swinging from their arms. Sansa felt very alone and very out of her element. She was the new kid, the loner. She found it hard to believe that there was anyone else at this god-damned university who didn't fit into a clique, who didn't have a group of at least ten friends around them at any given time. She sighed and started walking, tossing her long auburn tresses over her shoulder in defiance.

She was going to make this move work. It had been Arya who complained for weeks about the move, not her. Sansa had been dying to move down to London; was delighted when her dad was offered some high ranking political job, and now that she was here, she felt totally lost. But she was determined to fit in, she couldn't bear to see the look on Arya's smug little face when she found out that she had been right all along. No, Sansa was going to make it, if only to show up her little sister.

"Hi, I'm Sansa Stark," She said timidly when she reached a large front desk. Inside, the building had a much more modern appeal and a middle aged receptionist sat behind a glass desk neatly organised with papers and a phone. The receptionist stared at her blankly.

"And?" She said dumbly, staring at Sansa. Sansa creased her eyebrows; back home her name had gained her admiring (and often times jealous) stares, her father was well known, and by proxy, so were his family. Of course, his eldest daughter gained a fair amount of attention too, what with her shiny long hair, slender frame and doe eyes. However, here it seemed she would have to rebuild her reputation. "Have you got a problem?" The receptionist continued.

"Yes, I mean, I'm new, I was hoping you could help me," Sansa said slowly, fingering the hem of her sweater nervously.

"Ah, okay," The receptionist span her chair around and started flicking through files on a computer. "You filled in all your enrolment forms prior to arrival, right?" Sansa nodded. "Stark, Stark, Sansa Stark," The woman murmured to herself as she scrolled through lists. "Ah! Here we are," She clicked her mouse overdramatically. "Fashion and Textiles diploma, yes? Your things have already been delivered to your room. Here," She rummaged through a pile of papers, licking her thumb as she turned pages, "Is a map of the campus for you, and I'll just print off a copy of your class and living details while I find you your key," After much bustling the woman thrust the items into Sansa's hand and dismissed her with a smile and a 'have a good day'.

Sansa checked over the details even though she had memorised them as soon as her application was accepted. Her room was about as far as you could get from the main entrance whilst still being on campus; great. She took a glance at the map before shoving it into her bag; she didn't want to be one of those kids who had their nose stuck in their map all day. By the time she reached her block of student apartments the sun was setting, casting a golden glow on everything it touched. It seemed to radiate off the hair of a couple in front of her who stood chatting animatedly.

The girl had auburn hair like Sansa, but where Sansa's was perfectly straight; this girl's hung in neat curls all the way down her back. The sunlight glinted off them as they swung with the girl's movements. The boy too was beautiful, with brown curls and tan skin. He seemed to notice Sansa staring and whispered something to the girl.

"Hey!" She span round, "Can I help you? You look a little lost," The girl skipped towards Sansa, looping her arm through the boy's and tugging him with her.

"Oh no, I'm fine thank you, this is my apartment building actually," Sansa replied.

"No way, ours too!" The girl's full lips stretched out into a grin and she extended her free hand to Sansa, "I'm Margaery,"

"Sansa," Sansa smiled, relieved to have met a decent person on her first day.

"This is Loras," Margaery grinned, elbowing the boy next to her until he smiled politely and said hello. "Here let me see your room number?" Margaery took hold of Sansa's paper and gasped dramatically. "Oh I was told I'd be getting a new roommate, this is wonderful!" Margaery squealed and threw her arms around a surprised Sansa's neck. "Come on, I'll show you to it. Bye Loras," She reached up and kissed the boy on the cheek before leading Sansa away.

"Your boyfriend is very handsome," Sansa remarked to Margaery's amusement.

"Loras?! Oh no, he's my brother!" She giggled at Sansa's reaction but Sansa's mind was drifting to Loras's tanned arms and beautiful hair. Not her boyfriend eh? Did that mean he was up for grabs? Sansa smirked to herself as her newfound, and very excitable, friend chattered on about the workings of the campus, who was who and what was socially acceptable. Somehow Sansa seemed to have bagged herself a friend from the popular crowd, a popular friend with a beautiful brother. Sansa smiled coyly as Margaery nattered on. Perhaps the move wouldn't be so bad after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Arya Stark glared at her reflection in the mirror of the girl's bathroom. Her hair was a dark, messy wreath around her face that barely grazed her shoulders. She'd been trying to grow it out ever since the summer she decided to get that awful hair cut, however her efforts had been to no avail. She pouted her lips, admiring the dark red colour she'd managed to achieve by rummaging through her sister's makeup castaways. Her first-day-of-college outfit was at least a success; high waisted shorts with ripped tights and beat up docs with a baggy men's shirt over the top. She smiled slightly at her reflection; she looked badass. Not that she cared of course. This college was stupid. The move was stupid. She kicked a bin on her way out to relieve some of her irritation before she stepped out of the quiet bathroom and into the college corridors.

She groaned internally. They were full. She'd managed to emerge just as a break between classes had begun. Now she'd have to walk amongst all the other students. She'd manage to avoid the majority so far by leaving her classes early and arriving to them late; that way the only people she had to face were the ones actually in her class. It's not that she was _antisocial_; these people were just damn annoying. She missed Mycha, the chubby boy she used to play fight with when they were young; she missed Hodor, the gentle giant who never said anything but his own name. Most of all she missed Jon; her half brother who she was the closest to out of her whole family. When they had moved to London, Jon had stayed up north, having been offered a place at a military college. His absence made her heart ache, sometimes it seemed like he alone had understood her. Sure, her friends had been different, they were outcasts like her. The people here were popular and bubbly, but they were dumb. Arya couldn't stand any of them.

Someone rammed past her as she walked down the hallway, sending her books scattering to the floor.

"Arsehole!" Arya called after them, "I'll knock more than your books, how would you look without a few of those shiny teeth?" The girl cast Arya a frightened look and hurried off.

"Woah there, got a bit of a temper do we?" A low voice struggled to contain laughter as Arya scrambled for all her loose sheets on the tiles. Arya snapped her head round ready to have a go at the newcomer and instead found herself staring up into the face of the most beautiful boy she had ever seen. Her lips parted in surprise and for once in her life she had nothing to say. The boy looked down and grinned at her; his skin was tanned and his arms were muscled beneath a tight, metal band t-shirt. Black hair flopped in front of his eyes and he flicked it away before extending a hand to Arya.

"Gendry," He smiled as Arya clasped his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

"Arya," she replied with a small cough as she rearranged her folders in her arms. "Thanks, for the hand," His eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked at her and Arya cursed herself for being taken off guard by a _boy_. Granted an incredibly handsome boy, but a boy nonetheless.

"No problem, what have you got now?" Gendry leaned against the wall, advertising his tall, muscled frame. Arya bit her lip.

"Politics,"

"Politics? You're a smart girl then?" Gendry raised his eyebrow and Arya snorted.

"Hardly. I just think it's interesting, my Dad works in the government,"

"My dad's a mechanic," Gendry shrugs.

"An honourable trade, I need someone to fix my bloody mini." Arya leant next to him, her need to get to class forgotten.

"You drive a mini?" Gendry gawped, "That's so cool, I've got a bike myself,"

"Very metal," Arya laughed, twisting a strand of hair round her finger absentmindedly.

"Yeah," Gendry laughed with her, "Look I've got to get to class, it was nice meeting you Arya," He touched her arm lightly and Arya thought her skin might burn up beneath her shirt where he'd touched her. "I'll see you around, yeah?" He said noncommittally and sauntered away. Arya couldn't help but watch him until he'd turned the corner and gone out of sight.

"See you around," She sighed. She hoped she would.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Posting loads of chapters in the same day because writing is more fun than homework. Hope you enjoy - J x**

The silky fabric felt nice on Sansa's skin and she admired herself in the mirror. The pale blue silky shirt shimmered when she turned and the grey skirt she'd paired with it hugged her hips.

"See, I told you it would look good on you," Sansa's friend Margaery sat cross-legged on her bed and smiled at Sansa. She had lent her the shirt for their first day of lessons, after remarking that it no longer fitted. "Blue. It's our colour," Margaery got up and stood next to Sansa. They almost looked like sisters; with their long auburn locks, pale freckled skin and large blue eyes. Margaery looked more like Sansa's sister than Arya ever had. Margaery was like the sister Sansa had always wanted; sweet, fashionable and full of advice on boys.

"Here," Margaery stepped in front of Sansa and moved her long fingers to the buttons on her shirt, "Leave a few undone, it will drive the boys _crazy_, I promise," She pulled the fabric apart slightly so that a small part of Sansa's pale skin was visible just above her breasts. Margaery giggled and adjusted her own outfit; a sky blue dress with a low v-shaped neckline and a flared skirt.

"Do you think Loras will like it?" Sansa ventured shyly, glancing at the way her outfit made her look curvier and older. Her father would never have approved of course, but he wasn't here. Margaery made a face somewhere between pity and amusement.

"Oh sweet Sansa, I'm afraid Loras bats for the other team,"

"Bats for the other team?" Sansa raised her eyebrows.

"He's gay!" Margaery smiled as she fluffed up her hair.

"Oh," Sansa remarked, trying to sound as if she didn't care. Oh well, there's that one down the drain, she thought to herself. Margaery seemed to understand as she placed a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Don't worry, you wouldn't believe the amount of handsome boys there are here," The girls giggled together. "And it's still warm, which means they'll have their arms out! Wait till you see Joffrey," Margaery let her voice drop to a sultry whisper and winked. "I hear you're just his type,"

"Who's Joffrey?" Sansa asked as she slipped on her heeled boots and picked up her bag. As chance would have it, Margaery was doing the same diploma as Sansa so they got to have class together. It meant Sansa was able to catch up on all the gossip on the way to class and whilst they were getting ready.

"Joffrey Baratheon, he's the prime minister's son. Which means he's totally rich and popular, all the girls swoon over him,"

"My Dad works for Robert Baratheon; he doesn't look like him does he?" Sansa cringed, imagining the fat, repulsive man that ran their country.

"Oh god no, Joffrey's got his mother's looks, he's all blonde and gorgeous," Margaery assured her. Well that was a relief; Cersei Baratheon was one of the most beautiful women in the city. She had long golden hair, piercing eyes and cheekbones that Sansa was sure could kill a man.

Sansa's first lecture passed by without much interest, just a lot of talking and a lot of homework. Sansa cursed when the homework was set, it was their first lesson, how could there already be so much work to do? Still, Sansa wasn't known as the best dressed in her household for nothing, she could ace this class in her sleep. Besides, there were more important things to worry about, like when she was going to get a glimpse of this famous Joffrey.

After class Margaery led Sansa over to a table of her friends; more giggling girls, just the kind of girls Sansa's sister, Arya, hated. Sansa's heart stung at the thought of her sister, not that it mattered, she had new friends now, new sisters. Sansa shared pleasantries with the girls but she was distracted; for a group of boys were playing some sort of ball game not far away. Loras was there, slapping a dark haired young man on the back as they hugged and then she saw him; Joffrey Baratheon. He had fair hair that swept over his face when he ran and he was tall and lean.

"Joffrey!" Margaery called him over with a wave of her hand and a bat of her long eyelashes. Sansa tried not to be jealous of the way boy's eyes clung to her and the way the girls admired her. Joffrey reached their table and grinned pleasantly as he pushed his hair back from his forehead. The girl next to Sansa shuddered slightly and Sansa rolled her eyes. These girls were _definitely_ the type that Arya despised. However when Joffrey turned her way she could see his allure. His eyes glistened as they drank her in and he stepped closer.

"Who's your pretty friend Margaery?" He spoke in a sweet voice, never taking his eyes off Sansa. Sansa could feel her cheeks flushing pink.

"That's Sansa, she's lovely isn't she," Margaery sang her praises, winking at her friend from behind Joffrey.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," He took her hand and pressed it gently to his lips, laughing at the reaction of the girls around him. "I'm having a party tonight, I hope you'll be there," he released her hand and Sansa blushed profusely.

"I'd love to, Joffrey," she said politely and the boy rolled his eyes.

"Please, call me Joff,"

"I'd love to, Joff," Sansa repeated, keeping her gaze steady, the way that her friends seemed incapable of doing.

"I've got to get back to my friends. I'll see you tonight, beautiful," he winked and turned, running back to his friends and his game. Sansa's eyes roved over his long legs as he ran away. As soon as he was out of earshot Margaery and her friends began squealing.

"He called you beautiful! He wants you to go to his party! Do you think we're invited too?" They all cried out at once. Sansa brushed off their compliments and their praises but she was smug inside. Joff had called _her_ beautiful; not them. The rest of the day was sure to drag on, now that she had such an exciting evening planned. Still, at least it would give her time to plan an outfit.


	4. Chapter 4

Arya held her head high as she stepped out onto the field and tried to ignore the eyes of her classmates which were fixed on her every move and studied the bare skin of her legs.

"What? Never seen a girl before?" She finally snapped, tired of their quiet snickers and lingering gaze. The group of boys in her sport class stood huddled in a group whilst she stood separate from them, alone. Some of them made faces and looked away, embarrassed when she confronted them, others laughed cruelly and one, a large boy with a ridiculous hair cut stepped toward her. He towered over her, at least six foot tall and broad with muscle; but Arya thought he had an ugly face; it was all squished in, like he'd been hit with a ball too many times.

"I've seen tons of girls; you look more like a boy to me though, is that why they put you in the boy's sport class?" He sneered, his eyes burning a hole in her t-shirt over her small chest. Arya scowled and folded her arms.

"No, I requested to be in this class actually," She looked up at him, her grey eyes narrowing in discontent. "If I'd known you were in it maybe I wouldn't have,"

"Ohh, a feisty one! I like the ones who put up a fight," He turned and jeered at his friends and Arya could feel her cheeks blazing red with anger. "What about you little girl, you gonna put up a fight if I lift up your shirt and see what's really there?" He lunged out for her, his grimy hand diving towards her but Arya was quicker. She always had been; she could win any fight no matter how strong the opponent, she had the speed and the grace that they were always lacking.

She gripped his wrist as it reached the hem of her shirt and dug her nails into his skin before twisting it sharply. She smiled maliciously at that whimper it elicited from him.

"You're a psycho!" He yelled, ripping his hand from out of her grasp and shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yeah?" Arya laughed, stepping closer to him and staring up into his ugly, squashed face before she bought her knee up in between his legs.

The ugly boy howled out in pain just as their coach approached the group.

"It was all his fault, I swear," Arya insisted but she was escorted to the principal's office nonetheless. It was so unfair, Arya thought to herself. He was asking for it, talking about her in that way. Why was she the only one getting into trouble?

The principal was a tired looking old woman who sighed too much for Arya's taste. Luckily her worn down manner seemed to allow Arya to go relatively unpunished; she was to apologise to the boy (yeah right) and attend detention after college for a week (which she definitely wasn't going to go to). After much moaning and sighing she let Arya go, but by the time she had finished going on it was time to leave anyway. Arya hoisted her bag over her shoulder and stormed out, making her way to the car park where her beat up car would be a small safe haven. Only when she got there, she saw a tall figure leaning against it.

"Gendry?" She smiled as she approached him, puffing on a cigarette and looking as cool and gorgeous as he had earlier. "What are you doing?" He blew out a long puff of smoke and winked at her darkly before grinning.

"I told you I'd see you around didn't I? So here I am,"

"Am I so irresistible that you couldn't wait for a new day?" Arya teased, her day suddenly having got a whole load better.

"Something like that," he shrugged and stepped away from her car, tapping the roof gently. "It's the only mini in the place, so I knew it must be yours,"

"How observant of you,"

"Mm," Gendry trailed off, his eyes taking in Arya, but not the way the leering boy had done, Gendry looked at her not like she was a piece of meat, but like she was beautiful. Arya loved it. She placed a hand on her hip, emphasising her slim curves while she held her keys out in the other hand.

"So are you expecting me to offer you a ride or?"

"No, I just came to offer you a smoke," Gendry flipped his dark hair out of his eyes and held out the packet to her. She went to remove a cigarette but he closed his hand over hers. "There's only one left, its fine," His eyes glinted mischievously in a way that Arya didn't altogether understand; but she liked the way it looked. She liked the way _he_ looked.

"Thanks," she said slowly.

"No problem," Gendry dropped his cigarette butt on the floor and crushed it beneath his boot. "I'll let you go, see you Arya," He brushed her arm once more as he left, a subtle sign of affection. Bemused Arya opened the door to her rattling old car and got in, pulling out her lighter as she did so. She flipped up the lid of the packet and laughed. He was crafty, she'd give him that. Scrawled in tiny black print on the inside of the card was a phone number and the phrase "I_n case you need someone to help pick up your books_." Arya glanced in her mirror just in time to see a sleek black motorcycle driving away.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Trigger Warning: sexual assault. Hopefully people enjoy this chapter and the introduction of the hound. - J x**

The music blared out of huge speakers in the corners of the room and Sansa stood awkwardly at the side. Margaery was already drunk. Screw that, everyone was already drunk. Everyone except Sansa.

Joffrey's house was alive with music and the party atmosphere but Sansa lingered on the edges; having never been to a proper party before, having never been drunk before. She could see her friend grinding against some boy on the middle of the dance floor, her dress hiked up high around her thighs. Sansa wondered whether she should help her but she seemed to be having a good enough time, so she let it be. Loras was glued to the dark haired man Sansa had seen him with earlier, kissing much too passionately for public. And Margaery's friends were giggling and dancing together. Everyone seemed to have someone to talk to or dance with. There was only one other person stood alone.

Across the room from Sansa a tall, muscular man leant against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt which seemed taunt over his broad, muscled chest and his forearms seemed to erupt from the sleeves, looking seriously impressive compared to the boys at the party. Surely he wasn't a guest, Sansa thought. Whereas the other boys here were just that, boys, immature and foolish, this one was a man. He must be in his late twenties at least, with a body like that. He had dark hair which hung past his chin and stubble across his cheek bone and chin. Suddenly the man seemed to notice that someone was staring at him and he turned his face.

Sansa's eyes widened and she hurriedly stared down into the bottle she was holding. Though one side of the man's face was rugged and handsome, the other was riddled with terrifying scars. They had missed his eye and his mouth, but the skin on his cheek and forehead was red and melted, ravaged by a fire. Sansa was terrified to look again, for fear of the gruesome injury and also for fear that he may notice her looking.

"Admiring my dog?" A soft voice purred against her ear and arms slid around her waist making Sansa jump. She stared into the charming face of Joffrey with his glinting eyes and ever present smirk.

"Your dog, Joff?" She asked slowly, risking a glance at the man again and finding his dark eyes locked on hers. She shivered as Joffrey's breath tickled her neck.

"The Hound, we call him. Father hired him as my personal bodyguard, pretty impressive isn't he?" Truly he was, but Sansa was still frightened of his scars, and thought it ridiculous that Joffrey would need a bodyguard.

"Very," she agreed outwardly, wrinkling her nose at the strong smell of alcohol on Joffrey's breath. His fingers snaked around her middle and touched the almost full bottle in her hands.

"Haven't you been drinking sweet Sansa? I don't want you to miss out on all the fun," The boy released her and turned her to face him instead, raising his eyebrows and gesturing to the bottle. "Please, drink," There was a dark glint in his eyes that made Sansa feel uncomfortable but she felt she could hardly refuse, so she pressed the bottle to her lips and drank steadily. The beer tasted bitter on her tongue but in truth the coolness of the liquid was refreshing. Joffrey laughed lightly.

"No, drink this," He held out an unlabeled bottle to her with a clear liquid inside. Sansa eyed it distrustfully.

"What is it?"

"Just vodka, it'll get you drunk quicker than the beer," He smiled and thrust it into her hands. She held it away from her and stared at it as if it were poison. Something in Joffrey's expression made her wary.

"You haven't...put anything in it have you?" She bit her lip nervously.

"Of course not!" Joff looked horrified at her words but Sansa was still worried. "Sansa," he lowered his voice and gripped her wrist; "You don't want to be a loser do you? You want to have a good time, _don't you_?"

"Of course," Sansa replied, taken off guard by his sudden change of tone, but his features were pleasantly smooth almost as quickly as they had turned, making her wonder if it was all just a trick of the light.

"You do like me, don't you Sansa?" The boy looked so sad in that instant that Sansa nodded and with his encouragement took a swallow of the liquid. "Not so much!" Joffrey yanked the glass away from her laughing, "Blimey," Sansa found herself laughing with him as he pulled her onto the dance floor. She saw Margaery grin at her over Joffrey's shoulder.

Joffrey's hands sat comfortable on her waist and Sansa put her hands round his neck as she danced, wiggling her hips the way the girls had showed her. It seemed to be working because Joffrey never stopped grinning at her, his teeth looked sparkling under the lights.

Sansa wasn't sure how long they'd danced for before she began to feel the effects of the drink, it made her head fuzzy and everything was _so_ funny! Whether it was the alcohol or the high heels she was wearing, Sansa tripped and Joffrey had to catch her. He pulled her close to his chest and began kissing her neck. Wow, the song was so great, the lights were perfect, she looked hot and the most popular boy at uni was dancing with her! Sansa threw back her head and giggled but Joffrey pulled her head up and met her mouth with his. His lips and breath were hot and rough as his hands moved down her body.

"Come with me," he whispered against her ear and took her wrist, leading her away from the rest of the guests.

"But I want to dance!" Sansa laughed.

"You can dance with me, come on," Joffrey tugged at her arm and stumbling, Sansa followed. He led her out of the main room and started towards a corridor. On their way they passed the Hound who cast a mistrusting look at the pair.

"You sure about that?" He asked in a gruff voice, "She looks pretty out of it," He nodded to Sansa who was giggling and twirling a strand of her hair round her finger.

"I'll do what I want, dog," Joffrey snapped, pushing past the burly man, "Come on Sansa," The Hound looked after them in worry but made no further move to stop them. Joffrey took Sansa to a large bedroom and closed the door behind them before bringing her close to him again and passionately kissing her.

"Joffrey!" Sansa laughed against his lips, "This is all very forward!"

"No talking," he growled and she gasped as he pushed her down onto the bed. He held her arms above her head and climbed over the top of her. Sansa's heart raced, not from lust, from something else; a wild panic, fear. But her head was so clouded; she had no idea how to stop it. Joffrey's mouth attacked hers, gnawing on her lips and throat whilst his hands slid up her thighs underneath the tight dress she was wearing. Sansa could feel his hard crotch against her stomach and her heart pounded.

"Joffrey," She whimpered, trying to shove his hands away but he twisted his fingers into her hair, making her squeal. "Joffrey please, I don't want-" her pleas were cut off by his lips and his tongue forcing its way into her mouth whilst his fingers groped at the inside of her legs. His wriggling fingers reached the waist band of her underwear and started to tug them past her hips. Sansa began to sob as he sucked on her neck.

"Touch me," He snarled, dragging her hand towards his crotch as he tried to touch her.

"Joffrey no!" She cried out, wriggling her body away from his fingers.

"Shut up," he said and sat up to undo the zip of his jeans before ripping her underwear off her legs completely.

"Please, please," Sansa wept as she slapped his hands away but it seemed futile; he was too strong.

"Get the fuck off her!" A deep growling voice sounded as the door banged open and Joffrey leapt away from Sansa, revealing the Hound standing there.

"What do you think you're doing, dog?" Joffrey screamed, "I can do what I want!"

"Not if she doesn't want you to," The Hound bore down over Joffrey and Sansa scrambled to pull her clothes back on behind them.

"I'll have you fired!" Joffrey cried like a little boy and the Hound spat at his feet.

"You do that," He turned to Sansa and extended a large hand to her, "Come on girl, you don't need to put up with this filth," Sansa hurried after him, not daring to look into Joffrey's eyes. The Hound offered her his jacket and she shrugged it over her shoulders as he took her away from the monster of a boy, who she had foolishly thought was charming.

The Hound took her to another room, a kitchen, and turned the kettle on.

"You okay?" He asked gruffly of Sansa who stood there looking the exact opposite of okay. She was shivering even with the borrowed coat, her dress was torn, her hair was tangled and her face was red and blotchy with tears. "Never mind," The man seemed to realise the stupidity of his question and shook his head. "What's your name girl?"

"Sansa," she murmured. "Thank you, for rescuing me,"

"Don't think on it," The Hound poured a cup of tea and dragged a chair out for Sansa to sit on before offering her the mug.

"Are your friends here? Do you want me to get them?" Sansa thought of Margaery and the other girls drunk on the dance floor.

"No, they're pissed,"

"Well do you want me to call anyone for you? Or you can borrow my phone if you like?" The man offered and Sansa nodded feebly, on the verge of tears again. The Hound handed Sansa his mobile and patted her lightly on the shoulder before heading for the door.

"I'll be out here, okay, I won't let him come for you," He nodded and was about to leave when Sansa called him back.

"Wait, what was your name?" She asked timidly. The man seemed to think about it for a moment before replying.

"Sandor,"

"Thank you, Sandor," Sansa whispered as she clasped her fingers around the hot mug of tea and watched her rescuer disappear around the door frame.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Just a short chapter but something I wanted to do. Enjoy and please review! - J x**

Arya lay on her bed with her music blaring through her headphones. The cigarette packet lay beside her, waiting for her to make the call. She had left the last cigarette in there, not wanting to remove it; it was something of his that she had. She lifted the packet and stroked her thumb over the card where his scrawl had left tiny dents. Should she call him? Maybe she should wait until tomorrow; she didn't want to seem too keen after all. Arya groaned and dropped it onto her stomach. Her heart leapt as her phone buzzed to life in her hand.

The caller ID was a goofy photo of her and her sister together. They had taken it the day she had left for uni.

"Sansa?" Arya answered hesitantly, it was unusual for her sister to call her in the middle of the night, it worried her. "Sansa are you there?" Arya repeated to the silence and was greeted with shaky sobs. "Sansa! What's wrong? Speak to me!" She sat up in alarm and pressed the phone tighter to her ear as if it might bring her sister closer.

"Oh, Arya," Sansa's voice was quiet and shaky down the line, mixed in with heavy sobs. "It was a-awful!"

"What was? What's wrong?"

"Joffrey," came Sansa's reply.

"Who's Joffrey? What's he done?"

"He-he hurt me!" Arya felt heat rising to her cheeks in anger as her sister cried down the phone.

"He hurt you?" Her words turned cold and stony after the initial panic. Arya would hunt down anyone who hurt her family. "What did he do?"

"Oh Arya," Sansa whimpered, "His hands – oh god," She collapsed into another fit of tears and Arya's heart pounded in worry at the sound.

"Oh god he didn't, he didn't try to...?" Loud crying was the response. Arya found herself standing up, she didn't know why, she just knew she had to find this Joffrey and wring his neck. No one was mean to her sister. No one. Sure, Sansa and Arya had their fights but that was different. If anyone else laid a hand on her, Arya would rid them of their hands. "Where are you now? Are you safe?"

"I'm okay, someone's looking after me," Sansa tried to reassure her sister but her voice was still thick with tears and Arya wasn't sure.

"Who is it? Do you trust them? Look, I'm getting Dad, he'll come and get you," Arya was halfway out her bedroom door before Sansa's worried voice stopped her.

"Arya no, no you can't, please! He'll get the police involved and then Joffrey will-"

"Trust me," Arya said with menace in her voice, "Joffrey won't be hurting you ever again,"

"No, please don't tell Dad, I-I just don't know what to do!"Arya checked her clock.

"Get on the train, you'll make the last one, I'll sneak out and come pick you up!"

"Are you sure? Maybe I shouldn't,"

"You should, take a friend with you on the train, they can stay with us for the night, you'll be safe it'll be okay. I promise, you'll be safe," Arya pleaded with her sister until she heard a soft 'okay' on the other end of the line. "You're my sister Sansa; I'll look after you,"


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Sorry for the language but I feel like Sandor is a man who swears a lot. Thank you to all my followers and reviewers! Enjoy - J x **

Sansa dropped the phone into her lap with a sigh. How could she have let her baby sister come out to get her in the middle of the night? It was so selfish of her, but she was scared, she didn't know what else to do. She only knew she couldn't go back into the party.

She ran shaking fingers through her hair and found her forehead damp with sweat and already purple and brown bruises were blossoming on her pale arms. She breathed out hard in an effort to calm herself and crossed the room to the sink where she splashed cool water onto her face and arms and smoothed down her hair.

"Sandor?" She ventured timidly, her voice sounded hoarse and quiet after all the crying. The huge man entered the room as soon as she called and without thinking she stepped towards him and into his arms; letting her head rest against his broad chest and wrapping her thin arms around him. Sandor looked startled at her actions, his gruesome face painted with confusion. He held his hands out awkwardly, unsure of where to place them.

"Sansa," He rasped uncomfortably and Sansa pulled away from him, her cheeks flushing.

"I'm sorry, I-" she began to stutter out excuses but the fearsome man just smiled sadly at her and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "Where is Joffrey?" Sansa murmured, her blue eyes fixed upon the door which was slightly ajar. Sandor scoffed.

"Probably nursing his pride. In a deep, dark hole preferably,"

"He'll fire you for helping me," Sansa risked a glance up at the man's face and found the burns just as horrific as before, his thick lips in a scowl and his heavy brow casting shadows over his dark eyes. And yet there was a small glint in the dark eyes; a light sparkle in the blackness. Sansa found him strangely likeable, admirable at least. He had saved her; she felt safe with him, no matter how frightening she had first thought him.

"Piss on that," Sandor snarled, "I don't give two shits about the boy, he's a nasty piece of work at best,"

"Then why do you work for him?"

"Money," Sandor suggested, "Honour," he spat the word from his lips. "There's no honour in that family, I'll tell you that much,"

"Why not?" Sansa asked and The Hound laughed, though Sansa wasn't sure why her question was funny.

"You're like a little bird aren't you? Always chirping away," The smile lit up the dark face and Sansa pouted. "Now, don't make that face at me little bird, come on, let's you go home. Is someone coming to get you?"

"My sister, but I have to get the train out of the city; she's going to meet me at our station," Sansa paused and bit her lip nervously, "Would you come with me?" She pulled his coat tighter around herself and looked up at him warily.

"Ahh," Sandor murmured, making a face, "You don't want me with you, girl," He turned away from her slightly but she touched his arm lightly.

"I do, oh please Sandor, I feel safer with you with me," she pleaded with him and the man sighed.

"I suppose if you're going to do something, you can't do it half-arsed," he growled and Sansa gave him a small smile. They didn't bother taking the back door out; everyone was too drunk or too self involved to notice the two of them leaving; not that they would've cared anyway, Sansa thought bitterly. Where were her friends when Joffrey attacked her? Not helping that's what; it was Sandor who had come to her aid; a frightening, scarred stranger. She shuddered to think what might have happened if he hadn't been there.

The station wasn't far and they got there in time to make the last train; the only other people sharing the carriage with them were those pissed out of their minds, sleepy people who had missed their stop and made it all the way to the end of the line by accident, and people who sat as far away from everyone else as possible; seemingly terrified of the other passengers.

Sansa sat with her knees up in front of her and Sandor's coat wrapped around her like a blanket; it was so large on her that it easily covered her legs as well as her torso when she sat like this. She buried her face in it; enjoying the scent, something manly and protective. She leant against his shoulder when she felt her eyelids begin to droop.

Sandor sat up straight and stiff for a moment at her touch before relaxing and moving his arm to hold her against him. His large fingers stroked through her hair tentatively, as if worried he was overstepping a line, but Sansa found the action soothing and soon felt herself slipping into the world of dreams.

"Thank you Sandor," She whispered against his side and when she could not see the Hound smiled to himself as he looked upon her tiny frame, curled up next to him.

"It's okay, little bird. You'll be home soon,"


	8. Chapter 8

The cool night air whistled through Arya's messy hair as she stood next to her car at the station; waiting for the train to roll in and bring her sister safely back to her. She drummed her fingers on the roof of her mini impatiently. She'd been there for half an hour, and after trying to stay calm in her seat she had finally resolved to get out and stand to wait.

She pulled her jacket tighter around her to try and stop the chill but her small body was still wracked with shivers. She almost jumped in a nervous blend of anxiety and excitement when she saw the train pull up to the platform. Only a few people stumbled off before she saw her; wrapped in a giant coat with her arms tightly around herself, Sansa.

"Sansa!" Arya hurried over to her sister and met her in an embrace. The older girl looked more vulnerable than ever, with the over-size coat and her tangled hair and her pale face sticking out from the darkness. "You're okay, it's alright," She pulled her sister closer to her and let her weep quietly against her shoulder. That was when she noticed him from over Sansa's shoulder; the tall, menacing looking man with half his face ravaged by burn scars.

"Who are you?" Arya snapped, tugging her sister away from the man but Sansa pulled away.

"No, no, he's good, Arya." She wiped her eyes and looked toward the man, "This is Sandor, he saved me," Sandor grunted noncommittally. Arya wasn't sure, but Sansa seemed to trust the man, so she let it go.

"Come on," Arya started to lead Sansa toward the car, "Let's get you home; I'm sure your friend can find his own way home,"

"Wait," Sansa struggled against her sister's hold and addressed Sandor as she began to remove the coat.

"Keep it," He rasped, placing his large hand over her small one and smiling sadly.

"Where will you go?" Sansa asked quietly and Sandor laughed.

"You're worrying about _me_, little bird?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I can take care of myself, I'll find a place to stay for the night and go home in the morning,"

"I don't want you to leave," Sansa's voice was small and timid as she looked up at the burned man.

"Well I can't stay can I? What do you expect me to do?"

"I mean, will I see you again?" Sansa's words took on the pleading tone Arya was so used to hearing. Sandor's eyebrows furrowed together.

"I don't know," He patted her gently on the shoulder, "You take care, little bird," The man turned and started off into the night, leaving Sansa behind, her pale face streaked with fresh tears and her lower lip quivering.

"Come on, Sansa," Arya wrapped her arm around her sister's shoulder and led her to the car. They drove home in silence, save the occasional sniff from Sansa's side. Arya felt desperately sorry for her older sister, but was at a loss for words to say. Hell, that huge Sandor guy was better at cheering her up than me, Arya thought to herself. She could tell Sansa liked the man, even if Sansa couldn't tell it herself. But her sister was too vulnerable, too exhausted for Arya to question her about it, so she kept quiet and watched Sansa snuggle into his jacket out of the corner of her eye.

When they arrived at the Stark's home Arya played the courteous sister and said she would sleep on the sofa and Sansa could take Arya's bed; it was the least she could do. They used to share a room together at their old house, but when they moved down south Sansa moved into her uni apartment so Arya got a room all to herself. Having her own room was great, though she was usually loathe to admit it; there were times when she missed having her sister around.

She kissed her sister on the forehead and tucked her in like their mother used to do for them when they were children before she slouched onto the sofa and pulled a blanket over herself. As she closed her eyes to sleep she remembered the phrase her mother was always going on about; family, duty, honour. She thought her mother would've been proud of her today. She smiled as she slipped into dreams.


	9. Chapter 9

Sansa woke to her parents leaning over her; by the concerned looks on their faces, Sansa was sure Arya had told them everything. She groaned and pulled the cover over her face, trying to burrow back down into sleep but a soft hand touched her shoulder.

"Sansa, sweetheart. Please come out, we're here for you," Her mother's gentle voice pleaded with her and stroked her arm until Sansa begrudgingly poked her head out from under the duvet. Her mother shared her looks; long auburn hair and big, blue eyes which were currently filled with concern for her eldest daughter. Her father's mouth was set in a hard line beneath his dark, stubbly beard. Sansa opened her mouth to speak; to reassure them, to reassure herself, but instead she burst into tears.

She sat with them for what seemed like an eternity, sobbing and being cradled in her sister's bed while her mother hugged her and kissed her hair and her father looked on with an expression somewhere between worry and anger. But thanks to Arya's explanation she didn't have to say a word, she just sat and cried until she was all cried out.

It must have been fifteen minutes before she realised she was still in last night's clothes; she had been too tired to change, and besides, all her clothes were at her uni apartment. She felt sore and unclean, and despite her sleep, utterly exhausted. It was the kind of exhaustion that comes after a long cry and can only be cured by a long hot bath.

Her mother ran the water for her and even put in some of the expensive bubble bath that Sansa knew she had been saving. When Sansa slid into the water she let out an involuntary sigh; it felt good to be alone in her own little space, to let the silky water cradle her body and to let her long hair fan out around her head. Her naked body looked strange and distorted through the water; her limbs looked too long and thin and her skin too pale, it made her bruises appear more prominent on her arms. She hoped they would fade soon; they left the marks of Joffrey's hungry fingers, a physical reminder of her ordeal as well as the haunting memories.

Sansa let herself soak in the water for a long time, until it had all turned cool and the bubbles had disappeared. Then she finally dragged herself from the comfort of the bath and slipped Sandor's jacket on over her naked body. The fabric was smooth and cool against her skin but it made her feel warm; as if its owner were wrapping his arms around her, keeping her safe from harm.

When Sansa's mind was not filled with nightmarish images of Joffrey and his assault, she found Sandor's burned face coming to her. He was truly brave, she thought, not like Joffrey or any of those other boys pretended to be. He was crude and scary-looking, but he was brave and she had felt safe with him. More than anything she wanted to see him again. She couldn't leave this room without her family's pitiful eyes boring into her, they worried for her, she knew, but they treated her so vulnerably that she felt she was still under attack. Sandor had been kind to her and protected her, but he didn't look at her as if she were weak. His steely grey eyes had pierced hers and she felt they had seen all there was to know about her.

It was foolish, of course. She had only just met the man, and under dire circumstances at that, surely he felt nothing for her in return, and could she really feel something for him after so little time? It was just an infatuation, Sansa tried to assure herself. He was nothing like the men she usually found herself desiring, they were all soft and young and pretty, Sandor was none of those things, he was scarred and harsh and Sansa guessed he must have been at least in his late twenties. But Sansa had had a taste of those sorts of men with Joffrey, and he had turned out to be much less than the shining knight she thought he had been.

She sat hunched up against the bath with her wet hair dripping onto the fabric of Sandor's jacket and her hands slipping into his large pockets when she felt something inside of them. She deftly pulled out a folded up piece of paper and slowly un-creased it. Written in large, messy print was a message.

_Little Bird. I understand if you don't want to see me again. But in case you do._ Accompanying his handwriting was a phone number. Sansa's heart leapt and she felt her pale lips curling up in a grin. She reached for her phone and saw a message from Margaery. _Sansa, where are you? Are you okay? I saw you leave with Joffrey last night, are you with him? _It was signed off with many kisses and a worried face emoji. Sansa ignored it.

Her fingers shook as she tapped in the number and listened to the dialling tone. It rang once, twice, three times, on and on until she was sure he wasn't going to answer. Then a gruff voice sounded from the other end.

"Jesus what kind of time is this? Who the fuck is calling?" A deep rasp came from down the line and Sansa giggled slightly.

"Sandor, it's Sansa," She said tentatively biting her lip.

"Little Bird? Christ, an early riser aren't you,"

"It's not that early," She argued, her lips spreading into a smile at his voice.

"Yeah well I was up half the night looking after someone wasn't I?" He paused, "Shit. Sorry, I didn't mean that,"

"Yes you did, but it's okay," Sansa said calmly, "I wanted to thank you, properly, for what you did. I mean, if you wanted to, we could, go out," She stuttered her last words in her nervousness and heard gravelly laughter from Sandor.

"You mean like a date, little bird?"

"I-" Her cheeks flushed red and she was thankful he couldn't see her (least of all because she was naked apart from his coat) that realisation made her blush even more. "Whatever you want to call it," There was silence on the other end and she could imagine Sandor deliberating it. "I want to, I mean I would like, if you would like, to see you again,"

"Alright, Sansa," Sandor growled playfully, "I'll see you, if you want to so bad. You sure you're up for it? I imagine you're feeling a little rough," His voice turned gentler beneath its raspy tone.

"I would feel all the better for seeing you," Sansa replied, she wondered if she was pushing it, but the man merely laughed.

"You sing pretty songs, little bird,"

"Thank you," She laughed unsurely, "Will you meet me today? For lunch?" Sandor snorted.

"You don't expect me to pay do you? You should know I'm not a gentleman,"

"No!" Sansa squealed, "No, of course I don't, the pleasure of your company is enough,"

"Alright, save some of the flattery for when you see me, little bird, where are we meeting?" Sansa offered him the address of her favourite coffee shop. "Alright," he repeated, "I'll see you then, wear something pretty," he teased before seeming to think better of it and murmuring sorry. Sansa didn't mind, she was practically bouncing with anticipation. The rational part of her mind was screaming at her to stop, she barely knew the man, it was too soon. But the rest of her was thrilled at the prospect of seeing him again; the rude, burned man with a voice like rocks. It was true she barely knew him, but she felt as if she did, and she wanted to. She wanted to know everything there was to know about him, and if she had her way, she would.


	10. Chapter 10

Arya spent her first period lesson trying to stay awake. The heat of the radiator she was sat next to coupled with the soft lull of the teacher's voice made it quite easy for her focus to slip and her eyelids to droop. She had got barely any sleep the night before what with Sansa's situation and was paying the price in her history lecture. It was a small price to pay for her sister's comfort and safety but it meant she received multiple chastises for not paying attention.

When the class finally finished Arya forced herself to the bathroom to splash water across her face in an effort to wake her up. After that she wasn't sure what to do, she had a whole hour free and her list of friends was somewhat lacking. She had just resigned herself to wandering around town in search of a Costa or a Starbucks when she noticed a tall boy with a dark head of hair over the banister of the stairs. She never had called Gendry with all the commotion going on, but she had kept his empty, flattened cigarette packet, embossed with his scrawl. She pulled it out of one of the deep pockets of her coat and ran her thumb over it before plugging the number into her phone.

She kept her eyes on him as it rang, smiling to herself as she watched him fumble in his pocket and put the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" His voice spoke into her ear, deep and soft the way she remembered it. She found it utterly dreamy, but of course she could never admit that.

"Do you like scary movies?" Arya purred into the mouthpiece, her lips stretched into a grin as she heard him sigh.

"Yes, I do, now who is this?"

"Look up," Arya leant on the banister and smiled as he looked up at her, rolling his eyes and pushing back his hair.

"Arya," He laughed, still staring up at her and she winked coyly, gesturing to him with her index finger as she hung up the phone. She shoved it deep into her coat, safe in the knowledge that he would take her bait and come to meet her. At least she hoped he would.

He shouldered his bag and started up the stairs toward her, looking as gorgeous as ever in skinny jeans that hugged his legs and a baggy hoodie over his t-shirt.

"Hello stranger," Arya teased when he reached her, pushing her chest out as she leaned with her back against a wall.

"What do you want?" He laughed back, batting his long lashes at her. She bit her lip without realising as he stepped closer and placed one hand on the wall beside her head. He was much taller than her, and in this position he loomed over her, filling all her vision. Her heart beat quickened with the exhilaration of his proximity. A wild thought came to her, a daydream where she pulled him down to her and savaged his soft lips in a rough kiss. She waved the thought away with a slight shake of her head.

"I just wanted to see you, of course," She looked up at him through her lashes and told him in mock shyness. Arya wasn't the least bit shy. She never had been. If she was the type of girl who looked like Sansa she could have had any boy she wanted wrapped around her finger. But she didn't look like Sansa; she was short and thin with a dark mess of hair where her sister was tall and had slender curves and long tumbling locks. Arya's face was small and pointed, with dark slanted eyes and a blood red grin when she painted her lips with lipstick. The boys and girls alike used to make fun of her looks, calling her Arya Horse face, but that was when she was young, even she had to admit she had looked like a boy at times. But now she felt she had grown into her looks more. She was still small and messy, with pointed features and bony limbs, but the hints of a woman's curves had started to appear at her waist and chest, and her stomach was flat and toned; the way most girls longed for it to be.

"Of course," Gendry replied, leaning in closer. Arya could smell his aftershave and had to stop herself from leaning forward and burying her face in his delicious scent. "I wanted to see you too," He continued, this time stepping back and blushing. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, actually,"

"Sweet," Arya giggled, half making fun and half genuine. The boy's heavy eyebrows furrowed, trying to decide if she was mocking him so she hit him playfully on the arm. "Want to get a coffee?" She said quickly before she did something stupid like kiss him. Gendry looked taken aback but he smiled.

"Coffee'd be great, but I've got a lesson," His face fell. "I'm already late because of you," Arya groaned and stuck out her bottom lip in a pout that Sansa would've been proud of.

"If you're already late, then why even go?" She tugged at the sleeve of his jacket pulling him closer to her again before sliding her hand up to his shoulder and smiling seductively at him.

"Jesus, Arya," He breathed, his cheeks turning pink. "This is all rather forward isn't it?" She should've removed her hand, apologised, but instead she entwined her fingers into the hair at the back of his head.

"I like forward," she replied softly, "When it's with such a handsome man," She winked at him and stood on her tiptoes, her red lips almost brushing his. "And you _are_ a handsome man," She felt his breath on her lips and his free arm snake round her waist possessively. She tilted her head and pressed her lips to the skin of his cheek, pulling away and laughing at the lipstick stain she had left there, red against his pink blush.

"Christ," Gendry murmured. "You're a bloody tease, you know that?" Arya cocked her head to the side and feigned innocence.

"I am?" She began to say but she was interrupted by his lips on hers as he pressed her small body to the wall. This was not how it was supposed to go; she was supposed to tease him, keep him on his toes and then flit away, leaving him guessing. But she couldn't deny she enjoyed this alternative just as much. She wrapped both her arms around his neck and kissed him back with as much force as he had kissed her. It was not a kiss for public, but there was no one else around.

"Fuck it," Gendry finally breathed as he pulled away, keeping his arms locked around her waist. "Let's get coffee,"


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Thank you for all my reviews, it means so much to me to hear people's feedback and to know people enjoy what I write! Someone asked about the character's ages so I will write them here for everyone:**

**Arya = 16**

**Gendry = 17**

**Sansa = 18**

**Sandor = 27**

The shoes didn't exactly fit, and they weren't really her style either, but none of the outfit was. Sansa stood in front of the mirror trying to work out if her mix and match outfit was nice enough to be seen in. She'd had to borrow clothes from her mother and Arya's wardrobe in order to scrape together an outfit that wasn't her torn dress from the party. She thought she had made the best with what she had. She wore a pair of Arya's skinny jeans; they were a little small on her curvy figure and clung to her hips and thighs. On her top half she had on one of her mother's old shirts, soft, blue and flowery, it was the best she could find and it smelt like her mother so it was comforting. The shoes were also her mother's, blue pumps from years ago, but they matched the shirt, so that was a bonus.

Sansa sighed, she looked pretty enough she supposed. She had brushed her auburn hair until it shone and done her best with her makeup, though she didn't think the Hound was the kind of man who worried too much over a girl's looks. Not hers anyway, she thought bitterly. He's only agreeing to meet to be nice, the cruel part of her mind insisted, but the optimistic part still had hope.

The two parts of her mind battled each other all the way into town until she reached their designated meeting place. It was a quaint little place; an independently owned cafe with only a few branches but they sold the best lemon cakes Sansa had ever tasted, so it quickly became her favourite place to eat out. The sign was hand painted white with a beautiful cupcake on it and inside the place was clean and neat and pretty. It was Sansa all over, but it wasn't the kind of place she could envision Sandor.

She had expected him to be late, or perhaps not even turn up at all, but when she stepped through the door; there he was, sat by himself, stirring a spoon in his coffee awkwardly. Sansa couldn't help it; her face lit up in a smile when she saw him and she had to take calm, deliberate steps over to his table to stop her from skipping.

"Sandor," She said brightly as she pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down. He smiled back at her, rolling his eyes.

"Little Bird," He began, "I should've known the place would be like this," He gestured to the scene around him, "If you were a coffee shop, you would be this one,"

"You don't like it?" Sansa's face fell but Sandor waved his large hand at her.

"It's fine...pretty," Sandor swallowed, avoiding her gaze, "You like nice today," Sansa felt the heat rising to her cheeks, making them flush pink at his compliment.

"Oh, do I?" Her voice came out higher pitched than she intended and she could feel herself getting hot. What was happening? He had given her the smallest of compliments and she was acting like a fool. Sandor snorted.

"Yes, much too pretty to be out with me," He turned his head to the side to look out of the window onto the street; subtly hiding the burned side of his face from her. Had he not been burned he could've been very handsome; he was built tall and strong with rippling muscles and he had a strong jaw decorated with stubble, his eyes were dark grey and intense when he turned them on you and Sansa often found herself lost in their dark pools. She thought he was still handsome, even with his burns. They were part of him, he shouldn't be ashamed.

"What do you mean?" She asked politely as she accepted a drink from a waitress who eyed the couple suspiciously. Sandor turned to face her head on once more, meeting her big blue eyes with his steely, grey ones. The burned side of his face sagged, pulling the corner of his mouth down in a grimace and the melted skin was red and angry looking.

"You know what I mean," He growled, "You're young and pretty, bet you're smart too. You're kind enough to let me come out with you. You could have anyone you wanted, a real man, not filth like Joffrey. Not sad old monsters like me either." Sansa was shocked at his words and could feel tears springing to her eyes but she blinked them back; crying would only confirm his argument in his eyes, something she wanted to avoid at all costs.

"You're not-" She began but he cut her off.

"I'm old and crude and ugly. You'd do better without me, girl,"

"I don't think you're ugly," Sansa stared at him and his eyes narrowed, trying to tell if she was mocking him. "I don't think that at all, I think you're brave," Sandor kept his gaze locked with hers as he snarled.

"There are no brave men, little bird. Do you want to know how I came to look like this?" He watched her expression carefully, trying to locate any hint of fear or disgust he could draw from her but her face remained blank, the way she was determined to keep it. "It was my own brother that did this to me," She could not contain a slight widen of her eyes at his comment and he laughed cruelly. "Yes, oh yes, they knew he was a psycho as soon as he could toddle. Always beating people for the fun of it, he was. Only my parents didn't think he would do anything too serious. Until I came along, a tiny little baby to make fun of, to hurt. That's what I was to him when I was growing up, a punch bag. My parents kept me away from him when I was very small but when I started to grow they couldn't protect me, they couldn't control him either. It was Christmas one year; I was still very small, no more than ten. I was playing with one of his new toys; it looked fun, much better than any of mine. Only he didn't like that, did Gregor. When he found me he dragged me to the fireplace and shoved my head down into the flames. It was too late to repair the damage by the time they heard my screams,"

There was venom in his voice. Sansa stayed very still, trying not to betray the fear his story had instilled in her. The vision of a young Sandor being tortured by his own brother wouldn't disappear from her head.

"My brother wasn't a brave man, Little Bird, and neither am I,"

"You're not like him," Sansa said quietly.

"You don't know me," Sandor bit back dropping his face into his hands and sighing. Sansa reached out and prised his hands from his face, taking one of his large, calloused hands in her small, pale one.

"I want to, though," she thought she saw him smile. "You're a good man; I'm drawn to you, Sandor. You can call me a stupid, little girl if you want, but I like you. I want us to be friends," Sandor laughed but not cruelly like before, he was smiling at her. He ran his thumb over hers as she held his hand.

"You _are_ a stupid, little girl," he teased. "I'm your friend, little bird," They didn't let go of each other's hands for a long time. The touch was warm and familiar, even if they barely knew one another. They talked for a long time, Sansa told him about her family and her studies. He told her about his life, about his job and how he was going to leave it; he was called to attend a meeting with the Baratheon's to discuss why he had disobey Joff's orders and been so rude to them. He practiced his speech to Sansa which made her laugh profusely. It contained a large amount of swearing and criticism of dear Joffrey.

When they left Sansa stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek softly on the burned side. Sandor shivered involuntarily and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"Thank you, for everything," Sansa murmured into his chest as he held her but he shook his head.

"No, Sansa, thank _you_," Sansa thought she knew what he was thanking her for. For seeing beauty in him where no one else could. She smiled against his broad chest. He didn't need to thank her, his beauty wasn't hard to find.


	12. Chapter 12

"Best coffee ever," Gendry said happily as he sipped at his iced coffee through a straw.

"You're only saying that because you're drinking it while you're with me," Arya teased and he rolled his eyes at her.

"Alright, you got me," he paused, taking a deep drink before cocking his head to the side and grinning mischievously at her. "Do you really think I'm handsome?" He batted his lashes comically and Arya snorted, hitting him playfully around the head. The honest answer was yes, he looked very handsome in their little corner of Costa, his chair too close to hers, their hands on the table next to each other barely brushing. His eyes blue and sparkling as they bored into hers, waiting for an answer.

"Well, I don't kiss ugly people," She winked but ended up laughing at how ridiculous she sounded. She didn't want to seem like one of those materialistic girls her sister used to hang out with. In truth she didn't kiss anyone usually. She had spent a lot of time with boys growing up, but her romantic experiences had been few and far between. She had kissed her friend the butcher's boy once, but that had been a wet and sloppy affair and was decidedly unpleasant for both of them. That was when she was only twelve. Three years later she had kissed another, one of her older brother Robb's friends, but he was slimy and seedy with wandering hands and leering eyes. Arya had pushed him away and Robb had chased him from the party for preying on his youngest sister.

Her kiss with Gendry could hardly be compared to those experiences, true she hardly knew him, but she had kissed him as if she had, and she thought that was important. It was passionate and stolen, rushed and unanticipated. She wanted more.

"Sorry if I came on too strong," Gendry interrupted her train of thought, playing with his sleeve anxiously when Arya didn't reply. "I know you're the kind of girl who could speak up if she didn't want some guy's advances..." He trailed off, laughing nervously as she stared at him with raised eyebrows.

"You're right. I could. My brothers taught me to fight when I was a little girl and I've been beating up mean boys ever since," She smirked at his worried expression. "Gendry," Her tone turned serious, "You weren't too forward, relax,"

Gendry breathed out in relief and ran his hand through his shaggy black hair. Arya sighed wistfully; he looked so good when he did that. She chewed on her lip as she watched him.

"Hey," He said suddenly and Arya worried she had been staring too long. "What are you doing Friday night?"

"Err nothing,"

"My band's having a little gig and there's a party afterward, you should come," Gendry's eyes glimmered with his smile.

"That'd be great, thanks," Arya grinned back before checking the time on her phone. "Ugh, I've got to get back to college for a lesson, walk with me?"

"You make me skip for you and then you won't even extend the same courtesies!"He gasps in mock horror but he stands up anyway.

"My mum would kill me," Arya explained as they left the shop. Gendry gave her a look as if to say 'sure' but he didn't push it. Somewhere along the walk their hands became entwined. Arya liked the feel; his hands were warm and strong, like him.

"So what do you play in this band?"

"Drums," He told her. That explains the arms, she thought to herself as she cast a glance to his muscled forearms that were currently hidden beneath his hoodie.

"You any good?" She teased, pushing him slightly as they walked.

"Pretty good, yeah," He shoved her back and they collapsed into giggles.

Arya's next class was sport theory, meaning she had to spend an hour with the oafs from her class but without an excuse to cause them physical pain. Gendry walked her right to the door and slipped his arms around her waist when they got there, leaning down to kiss her once more. It was sweet and gentle this time; warmth flooded Arya's face and her hands balled up into fists on his jacket.

"Call me," He said as he walked away, leaving Arya hot and flushed, her classmates gawping or sniggering. She was bound to endure teasing because of it, but she decided it was worth it.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N I realised that I previously said that Arya is 16, but she can drive, so she is in fact 17. Sorry about that! Not so sure about this chapter but hopefully you enjoy - J x**

The Stark family stood in their living room waiting to see Sansa off. Sansa's mother, Catelyn was sniffing into a handkerchief, Ned; her father was comforting his wife with an arm around her shoulder and a sad expression on his face. Bran looked calm and indifferent, little Rickon had put down his Nintendo DS for five minutes to hug Sansa's leg and beg her to stay. He had done this when Robb and Jon had left for their universities too. Arya just looked at her sister sadly from across the room. They hadn't gotten on at all when they were young, but as they grew, Sansa thought her sister was the only one who could really understand her.

"Oh Sansa are you _sure_ you don't want to stay," Catelyn begged of her daughter, like she had done for the last hour.

"Mum, I worked hard to get into that school, I'm not going to drop out because of one stupid boy," Sansa frowned at her mother, before wrapping her arms around her neck in an embrace. They looked so alike, both with their tumbles of red hair, creamy skin and freckles paired with huge blue eyes. Sansa was always being told how much like her mother she was becoming by her father or their friends. It wasn't a bad thing, it was admirable to be like her mother, Catelyn Stark was a brave, compassionate woman who cared for her children above all else in the world. Sansa knew it pained her to watch any of her children leave or be in pain, as Sansa was returning to a place and people who had caused her harm; she could understand her mother's distress, so she hugged her tighter and buried her face in her hair.

"I love you, Mum," She whispered sweetly.

"I love you too,"

"It'll be half term soon, and then I'll come and stay," Sansa pulled back and tried to give a reassuring grin. "And I won't make Arya sleep on the sofa this time," She made a face at her sister but Arya merely waved the comment away, Sansa had noticed the smile plastered to her face ever since she'd got in from college, and what with Arya's face usually cast in a scowl, something good must have happened. She made a mental note to call her later; she couldn't bring it up in front of their parents, of course.

After another round of hugging and goodbyes it was finally time to go, her father dropped her at the station and stayed until the train was pulling away. It made her feel sad, her hand pressed to the glass as the train slid away from her family, from home. She had to remember she had a new home now; with Margaery. Oh god. She knew Margaery was going to be hell when she got back, Sansa hadn't replied to any of her calls or messages; she hadn't been in the mood. Anyone or anything to do with uni just made her think of Joffrey's twisted grin and his hands on her skin; and the thought of that made her want to vomit or burst into tears. Avoiding either option was preferable, so she had ignored any noise from her phone and tucked it deep into her bag. This, apparently, was a mistake.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?!" Margaery's shrill voice attacked her eardrums as soon as she opened the door to their tiny apartment. "You haven't answered any of my calls! You could have been dead or something! Jesus, Sansa, you don't just leave a party without telling anyone and then not reply the next day!" The expression on her friend's face was so funny that Sansa couldn't help laughing. "It's not funny!"

"Okay, okay, sorry," Sansa dropped her things onto her bed and wrapped her arms around Margaery who sighed deeply into her hair.

"I was worried, where were you?" Her blue eyes clouded with worry and curiosity and Sansa groaned, desperate not to relive her ordeal again.

"I went home, my sister picked me up," Sansa turned away from her friend but she knew Margaery wouldn't give up that easily.

"Your sister is at school,"

"College, does it matter?"

"Why did you need your baby sister to come and pick you up from a party?" Margaery raised her perfectly shaped brows and narrowed her eyes. "I thought you went somewhere with Joffrey, I saw you go with him and then we didn't see either of you for the rest of the night," Sansa winced at the sound of his name.

"I would...prefer, if we didn't speak to Joffrey anymore," she said slowly and carefully.

"Oh Christ, what's he done? Did he turn you down?" Sansa snorted and dropped her head into her hands.

"No. He - he tried to rape me," She said through her fingers, the words muffled by her skin.

"What?"

"He tried to rape me!" She removed her hands and yelled, making her friend step back in fright. "Okay? Now you know, can we _please_ drop it." Sansa rolled over on her bed so that she faced the wall and didn't have to see the pity that was surely etched onto Maragery's beautiful face.

"Oh Sansa..." She began softly.

"Don't," Sansa snapped. She felt bad for being rude to her friend but she couldn't bear the thought of talking about it, so she got dressed for bed in silence and pretended to be asleep long before she actually slipped into dreams. When she did dream, she dreamt of home. In her sleep, she was safe.


	14. Chapter 14

"Arya! There is a _boy_ here for you!" Rickon's voice called up the stairs and reached Arya where she sat in her bedroom applying an extra coat of red lipstick. The days between her coffee date and Friday night had dragged on terribly with Arya's excitement at a second date with Gendry; she had been preparing herself for hours, deciding what clothes to wear and how to do her hair. "Mum doesn't like how he looks; I can hear her telling Dad!" Rickon yelled again. Oh god. Arya shook her hair out and took a final look in the mirror.

Her outfit was meticulously planned to look as if she had just thrown it together, but in a sexy kind of way. She wore her tightest skinny jeans to display what little curves she possessed and a bright red bralet top that revealed her flat stomach and zipped up at the front. Her hair was a mess as ever, but she sort of liked it; it was like her. On her feet were the docs that she always wore, she knew most girls wore heels on a night out and god knew she needed the extra height, but Arya had never perfected walking in the things so she decided to play it safe.

When she was satisfied with her appearance she headed downstairs and was greeted by a gasp from her mother.

"Arya Stark! You're not seriously wearing that out for that _boy_?" Why did all her family say boy like that? He had a name; they just clearly hadn't bothered asking it. Her eyes travelled over Arya's skimpy top and widened until Arya was forced to fold her arms over her bare skin.

"Yes I am, Mum," She replied with a roll of her eyes and pushed past her mother. "And his name is Gendry,"

"Well where is he taking you? Is he going to keep you safe?" Catelyn hurried after her daughter spewing questions but Arya was only half paying attention.

"I'll see you later, Mum, I'll be good," She turned and kissed Catelyn on the cheek before heading into the hall. Rickon was holding the door open and having an animated discussion with Gendry about Mario Kart.

"Come on, Rick, time for me to go," Arya tousled the boy's hair and slipped him a fiver with a wink. She had always had a soft spot for Rickon. "Don't tell Mum," she mouthed before she closed the door behind her and could address Gendry at last.

"Hey," She breathed, he looked gorgeous as he always did.

"Hey," He grinned back pulling her in for a kiss by her waist. "Ready to go?" He asked her and nodded towards the black motorcycle parked in the drive. Arya's bottom lip dropped in her gape; it was a beautiful vehicle, sleek and stunning like the owner.

"Hell yeah," She let him tow her to it and fasten a heavy helmet over her head and then another over his own. He straddled the bike with ease, leaving Arya to awkwardly clamber on behind him; she tried to make it look easy and sexy like he had but her legs were too short and she was ungainly by nature. She managed it in the end, but when she finally sat upon it she felt unsteady as if she would fall off at any moment; and that was when they were still, she dreaded to think about how she would fare when they started to drive. Oh well, she thought, at least it would give her an excuse to hold onto him.

She squeezed her thighs tight around his hips as he revved the engine and wrapped her arms around him so that she could clutch his chest. She heard him snort softly at her touch as they sped off and then the sound was lost in the wind that whipped through her clothes and battered her body. Arya wriggled her butt so that she was pressed even closer to him and she could cuddle up against his back.

"Calm down, Arya. I'm trying to drive!" Gendry called through his laughter when they slowed for a traffic light.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" She yelled back, but it was only half true. It didn't take them long to reach the venue, but Arya could have happily stayed on that bike with him for a lot longer. It was exhilarating, and she wasn't sure what was better, the ride itself, or their proximity.

"Enjoy that?" Gendry asked as he helped her out of her helmet.

"It was great, thank you," She leaned in and gave him a soft kiss; it was the most tentative she'd been with him and the gesture left them both blushing.

"Come on then," Gendry took her hand, "We're a bit early 'cause we need to set up, so you can meet my band mates," The venue was small and shitty, as you'd expect; a community hall that had seen better days, but Arya could imagine it filled with people. At present there were only a handful of people in the room, a couple of girls who sat in the corner chatting amongst themselves, a group of guys who Arya assumed were a different band, judging by the guitars slung around their necks, and two boys setting up equipment who greeted Gendry with hoots and grins.

"Gendry!" One of them bounded forward to meet him, slapping him on the back before taking in Arya and narrowing his eyes with a sneer. "Oh, who's this?" He was tall and lanky with a mop of blonde hair over his face and jeans that clung to his long, skinny legs.

"Back off, mate," Gendry shoved his friend playfully. "This is Arya, Arya, this is Lommy," Lommy winked.

"Hello," Arya said quietly, folding her arms across herself. People always told her off for it when she was young, saying she came across as hostile. She didn't care.

"And this," Gendry pointed to the other boy who was tuning a guitar. "Is Hot Pie," The boy looked up at the mention of his name and gave a cheery wave.

"Hot Pie?" Arya scoffed and Gendry rolled his eyes.

"It's a nickname, yeah,"

"I can see that," Arya muttered under her breath and Gendry shushed her with his finger to her lips. Hot Pie was a round, dumpling of a boy which had clearly gained him his nick name. Arya couldn't decide which was worse; that or Arya Horse Face.

"I've got to go set up, our set is first, then there's another band," Gendry nodded to the guys a little away from them.

"Hurry back," Arya sighed happily into his chest as she hugged him and felt his laughter vibrate through her.

"Don't worry, if I don't keep an eye on you, someone else will sweep you off your feet and my bout of luck will be over,"

"You'll be the only one doing any sweeping, sir," Arya stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, ignoring the wolf whistles from behind them. When she had to pull away Arya leant against a wall, watching Gendry's arm muscles as he set up his drum kit; a perfectly acceptable activity in her opinion, she didn't even care if anyone saw her.

Eventually the room started to fill up and the lights went down as Gendry and his friends took to the stage, introducing themselves as The Fleabottoms, a horrific name in Arya's opinion, she would be sure to ridicule them for that later, but their band wasn't too bad. In fact they were pretty good, Lommy's singing voice was better than she'd expected, Hot Pie was skilled with his guitar and Gendry looked damn sexy on the drums. Arya cheered loudest when their set ended and blushed profusely when Gendry blew her a kiss.

"You were amazing," She leant up to talk in his ear, struggling to be heard over the next band's music after he came of stage. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her tight to him. His hair was wet with sweat but Arya didn't mind.

"No, _you're_ amazing," He replied, "Want to catch that party?" Arya nodded as he kissed her brow. Her night was just beginning.


	15. Chapter 15

To Sansa's surprise, Margaery had managed to keep her promise and not told anyone about what Joffrey had done, though Sansa had become the receiver of her sympathetic looks and cups of tea even when she didn't ask for them. Sometimes it was nice to be doted on, but Sansa wished people would stop treating her like she was wounded. Her parents and Margaery alike acted as if she was a new fragile person after what had happened to her, they treated her as if she was weak. It was only Arya who didn't, Arya and one other person, the person who her mind kept drifting to at the most inappropriate of times.

Sansa hadn't heard from Sandor since their lunch together and she was worried he'd gone back on his decision to be her friend, or worse, that he'd simply forgotten about her. That would be worse; she told herself, better to be thought of badly than not at all, right? That was what the girls she hung out with seemed to think, their lives revolved around petty gossip usually. Sansa found it dull, but what other option did she have? These were the types of girls she'd been friends with her whole life, she used to relish in it, the excitement of a new story or someone else's crisis, but somewhere along the way, she wasn't sure when, but she had outgrown them. It wasn't until she had finally come to this conclusion, sitting at their lunch table on a sunny Friday, that she realised she was lonely. Achingly, desperately lonely.

It hadn't occurred to her before as she had fit in so well straight away, joining a clique the day she arrived; only they weren't her clique at all. Some of them were nice enough she supposed, but their incessant chattering became a dull buzzing to her ears and she found herself more often than not, lost in her own thoughts. That was one of the times she let her mind drift to Sandor. It started innocently, remembering the way he talked and the things he said, but it usually turned to thoughts of his rippling muscles, strong jaw and the way his deep gravelly voice sounded when he said her name or called her Little Bird.

"San?" Margaery's voice bought Sansa back to the present, and to her horror, she saw that all eyes were turned on her. Most were filled with a hunger for gossip; only Margaery's contained pity, for only she knew the truth. It was him; _Joffrey_, that was the cause of it. Of course. Sansa's heart thudded at the sight of him approaching, but with anxiety instead of exhilaration. He strode toward their table with purpose, his golden hair glistening and his blue eyes fixed upon her. Margaery gripped her hand under the table.

"Sansa?" Joffrey called confidently as he approached them and Sansa swallowed, looking away pretending not to notice. "Sansa?" He called again, louder as he reached their table. He was tall in stature and with Sansa seated he seemed to loom over her, like a dark shadow despite his fair looks. She turned to face him and forced her lips into a smile, her doe eyes trained on his.

"Yes, Joff?" Her voice was sickly sweet, dripping with hidden venom. She remembered her Mother had once told her; courtesy was a woman's armour. It was an armour Sansa wore well, she had learned from a young age how to wield it to her advantage. Unlike Arya who had tried her hand at more _physical_ persuasion, Sansa had perfected the art of getting her way through a smile or a few choice words. Both were effective in their own way, Sansa thought wryly.

Joffrey looked taken aback at her polite persona but not displeased. He smiled equally pleasantly.

"I was wondering if I might steal you from your friends for a moment," He batted his lashes at the group of girls sending them into a giggly, pink cheeked frenzy. It made Sansa feel sick.

"Of course, Joff, it would be my pleasure," She smoothed her hands on her skirt and stood up, avoiding Margaery's gaze. Joff led her out of the canteen and into a hallway, out of view of her friends. Her heart pounded harder as his smile turned sour and she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake following him. No, she told herself, her friends may not be here, but there are still plenty of people around, he won't do anything. She folded her arms across her chest and scowled at him; deciding to abandon her manners if he was going to.

"What do you want?" She spat and his eyes narrowed cruelly.

"Did you fuck _him_?" His blue eyes flashed menacingly as he stepped closer to her.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Sansa replied incredulously.

"My dog," Joffrey growled, "You wouldn't fuck me, but you'd happily run off with an old, ugly, dog! Is that right?" Sansa raised her eyebrows in disbelief, first of all she was amazed he would think that, and secondly she wanted to slap him for thinking it was his right to know who she did or didn't choose to sleep with.

"At least he didn't try to rape me!" She whispered back and Joffrey laughed a high, cruel pitched sound.

"Rape? You call that rape? You should be honoured. I'm the best you could get! Everyone wants me,"

"Well," Sansa started to step past him, "I don't," Joffrey's face flushed an ugly red and he gripped her arm in his fingers.

"What was that?" Not for the first time Sansa wondered if he was not entirely sane.

"I said," Her voice was calm and measured as she met his eyes with hers, "I don't want you, Joffrey, and I never will," He dug his fingers into her skin harder and brought his face close to hers.

"Here's what you're going to do," Flecks of saliva landed on her cheek as he spoke, "You're going to walk out of here arm in arm with me, and act over the moon to be seen with me,"

"I'm not going to do that,"

"You will do what I tell you!" His face had turned an ugly blotchy pattern of reds and purples in his anger as his nails pressed into her flesh. Without thinking she brought her free hand up and struck him across the face. Hard.

He stepped back shocked and people turned to look at the boy with his hand clasped to his cheek where a red welt was beginning to appear. Sansa wished she had hit him harder. She smiled politely and blew him a kiss as she walked away.

"I hope your day is as wonderful as you are, Joffrey," she called in a singsong voice as she skipped away, feeling the happiest she had in days. Maybe her sister was onto something; physical persuasion _is_ the way to go.

When her phone buzzed in her pocket she expected it to be Margaery, begging to know what had happened after Sansa had walked away from Joffrey and away from her friends, but her face lit up when she saw the name listed for the number.

"Sandor?!" She grinned as she pressed the phone to her ear and heard rocky laughter.

"Someone is in a good mood,"

"I just slapped Joffrey!" She sang and Sandor erupted into more laughter on his end.

"Good for you, I'm sure he deserved it. Look, Little Bird, do you want to get a drink with me tonight?"

"Are you asking me on a date, Sandor?" Sansa teased but her heart was fluttering with excitement.

"Yeah, yeah I guess I am,"

"I'd love to," Sansa smiled, her day having got significantly better within the last ten minutes.

"I'll pick you up at eight," Sandor said before hanging up leaving Sansa feeling as if all her worries had disappeared.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N Sorry I haven't updated in a while, I've been pretty busy! Hope you enjoy - J x**

The cushion's of the sofa sagged as Hot Pie plopped himself down rather deliberately next to Arya. They had been at the party for around an hour and Arya had decided to take a break from dancing and relax on one of the plush sofas that were dotted around the living room; she didn't know whose house it was, but Gendry seemed to know everyone, so she let it slip from her mind.

"Pizza?" Hot Pie shuffled closer to her and shoved the plate under her nose.

"Er, no thanks," Arya snorted at the boy's downcast expression before he stuffed the slice into his own mouth. She found that, although a little disgusted by him, she quite liked the boy. He was funny, through no intent of his own, but still.

"Hey, gorgeous," A low voice purred into Arya's ear, making her shiver as strong arms snaked around her from behind.

"Gendry," she lifted her head to meet his lips with hers, enjoying the way the world seemed to spin when she closed her eyes. She wasn't sure whether it was caused by the shots she'd taken or just the taste of his lips, but she liked it, it made her feel like she was in a dream. Hot Pie coughed loudly behind them.

"Err...mate, do you have to you know, do that here?" He stuttered and Gendry waved his hand at his friend without breaking the kiss. Hot Pie sighed loudly and got up, leaving the couple to it.

"Do you want to get some air?" Gendry breathed, leaning back to look into Arya's slate grey eyes. Her breath caught in her throat; how could someone so beautiful possibly like her? And yet here he was, talking to her, kissing her. She had been staring too long, she could tell, but she felt so peaceful here, the music thrumming around her, his eyes on her, looking at her as if she was the most beautiful girl in the room, even though Arya was sure that was far from true.

"You okay?" He laughed when she didn't reply and she shook her head slightly to escape her daze.

"Yeah, sorry, I just, you look really good," She fumbled on her words, blushing. She hoped it was too dark for him to tell.

"You always look good," He smiled as he tugged her hand, pulling her to her feet and leading her away from the party to the small strip of garden at the back of the house. The air was cool and felt nice on Arya's face as she lifted it to the sky. There were stars dotted above her, and even though she was in a tiny garden in suburbia, she felt as if she could've been anywhere.

"Arya," Gendry's voice sounded tight when he spoke, making Arya's head snap back to look at him.

"What's wrong?" She draped her hand over his shoulder softly and he sighed, leaning into her touch.

"Do you...like me? I mean, I'm not just something new for you to play with, am I?" He closed his eyes when he spoke and Arya snorted. Gendry, the most gorgeous guy she had ever met, was asking her this? As if Arya had loads of guys lined up for her company. She frowned at the way his lips turned down at the sound she made.

"Of course I do," She creased her eyebrows and stepped closer to him. "If anyone would be playing, wouldn't it be you? I mean, you're...look at you! And I'm just, just, Arya Horse face!" She meant to laugh but the words came out as a strangled sob and she had to rest her head on his chest so he wouldn't notice that her eyes were brimming with tears. Where on earth was this coming from? She scolded herself internally; trust her to get weepy after a few drinks, stupid, stupid.

"Horse face? I don't know about that, I think you're beautiful," Gendry's chest vibrated beneath her when he spoke, it made her giggle and she looked up at him, rubbing at her eyes.

"Really?"

"Of course I do, I was wondering, um," He coughed awkwardly and turned away from her gaze, "If perhaps, you know...like," He mumbled.

"Oh spit it out, Gendry," Arya snapped returning to her usual self.

"Fine," he sighed, "Be my girlfriend?" His eyes met hers again and Arya found a spluttering laugh escaping her mouth.

"Me?" She said quietly and Gendry rolled his eyes.

"Oh no, sorry, wrong person. I meant that other girl over there!" He points to the empty garden, "Yes you, you nutter,"

"But, why?" Arya's voice sounded incredulous, ridiculous considering her usual cocky persona.

"You're amazing," Gendry stated, wrapping his big arms around her waist and pressing her to him.

"But I'm not nice, am I?"

"Who cares about nice? You're incredible; you're caring, loyal, ruthless, smart, feisty as anything and I like you, okay?"

"Okay," Arya found herself grinning as she stood on tiptoe to kiss him delicately. He pressed back, his lips hungry for hers, but tender and gentle too. "Okay, I'll be your girlfriend, Gendry," she whispered between kisses as she curled her fingers into his hair. He was warm and comforting in her arms, and she was happy.


	17. Chapter 17

"I still can't believe you slapped him," Margaery said for the hundredth time as Sansa sat in front of their mirror, touching up her makeup. Her eyeliner just wouldn't go right. She suspected Sandor wasn't really the type of man to care about a woman's eyeliner, but to Sansa it mattered. "You slapped him, and now you're going on a date with his bodyguard!" Her friend squealed and Sansa sighed but she was smiling.

"It's not a _date_," She insisted, though her heart thudded at the word. "It's just drinks," She tried to sound casual. Margaery wasn't having any of it.

"Oh sure, Sansa, you don't even like him right? That's why you've got all dressed up and you've been fussing over your face for the last half hour," Margaery grinned coyly and Sansa threw a pillow at her; the pair laughing.

"I don't know what it is, let's just, keep it on the down low for a bit, yeah? I don't want people to think I'm going on a date only for me to get viciously turned down,"

"So you _do_ like him!" Margaery squealed, putting the pillow behind her back so she could lean more comfortably against the wall. Sansa's cheeks flushed pink. She did like him. She didn't know when she had realised it, but the thought of him made her stomach squirm and her heart thump. Not in the uncomfortable, frightened way that it had done when she was around Joffrey. It felt good, excited.

"Do you think I look okay?" Sansa ignored the comment and smoothed down her dress. It was a pale pink, almost nude with long sleeves and an open back; it fell to just above her knees. Her auburn hair was in gentle waves over her shoulders; simple, pretty, she hoped.

"Gorgeous," Margaery leant forward and kissed Sansa's forehead sweetly. "Go get him," Sansa grinned with her straight teeth showing, she could barely hold back her smiles at the thought of seeing him again. Ridiculous, some might think it. He was a grumpy man, it was true, with a disfiguring scar and a blunt manner, but Sansa barely even saw those parts of him. Or more that she saw past them, to the man within, true and caring and handsome, like a knight from one of the stories she used to love so much.

At precisely eight o'clock her phone buzzed to life in her hand. Sandor's time keeping was impeccable, though she supposed working for Joffrey it would've had to be. She left Margaery with a flutter of air kisses and the promise that she would tell her everything when she got home then she skipped down the steps of their building and across the wide lawn at the front of the campus.

An old truck was parked on the curb in front of their campus, the engine purring softly with a classic rock song playing quietly over the radio. Sandor reached out to turn it down as Sansa opened the door, her grin still wide.

"Good evening," she bowed her head politely as she got into the truck and pulled the door shut behind her. She bit her lip shyly as Sandor's gaze stayed on her face, his dark eyes smouldering and his lips curved up slightly. "What is it?" She giggled nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Sandor coughed and turned back to face the road as he started to drive.

"You look beautiful tonight," He said gruffly, not looking at her as he pulled out onto the road. Sansa's cheeks glowed pink and hot.

"Thank you, you look very handsome," She replied, watching him watching the road. He laughed deeply, his thick fingers flexing on the wheel.

"That's very nice of you to say, Little Bird,"

"Oh there's nothing nice about it," Sansa said matter-of-factly, "I'm being truthful," Sandor finally looked back at her, one heavy eyebrow raised.

"Well, thanks," He smiled and Sansa touched her fingers lightly to his arm. His muscles tensed beneath her fingertips.

"So, where are we going?"

"Oh, it's not far, it's my local, I hope you don't mind,"

"No, not at all," Sansa replied politely, "You live near to the uni then?"

"Yeah, when I was working for Joff, I had to be close by, so barely ten minutes drive,"

"And what do you do now that you left him?" Sansa inquired and Sandor laughed.

"Left him, you make it sound like I was married to the boy," He paused, shaking a piece of dark hair from his face, "I got a job as a bouncer at a club, pretty easy to find that sort of work when you look like...well, when you look like me I guess," He grimaced and Sansa reached out to touch him again, desperate to comfort him, to feel his warmth on her skin.

"There's nothing wrong with the way you look, I like it," Her blue eyes were wide and honest as she looked at him. Sat to his left she was facing the un-burnt part of his face, not that it mattered to her. The scar wasn't pretty, but it didn't bother her anymore.

"Well you'd be the first to say that, Sansa," He sighed sadly then shook his head, "It doesn't matter, work is work," He pulled into a car park next to a pub with brightly lit windows and the sound of music and laughter from within.

"What kind of club is it?" She inquired as he turned off the engine. He turned to look at her, frowning.

"A uh, dancing club,"

"Dancing?" She raised her eyebrows, "You mean like, sexy dancing? Like a strip club?" Sandor smirked at her expression.

"Little Bird," He reached out to stroke her face but seemed to think better of it at the last moment, jerking his hand away. Sansa frowned. She didn't like the idea of him working at a strip club. It was totally an objectification of women, how could he work in a place like that? Just because the girls are hot and scantily clad doesn't mean – oh. Sansa realised her own thoughts. She didn't want him working there because she was _jealous_. Jealous of all the pretty girls he would meet, girls whose job it was to dance and look attractive for men. She didn't want him looking at them, thinking about them, she wanted him to think of _her_. A stupid thought, it wasn't like she was dating him, she had no reason to be jealous, right? She tried to push the thought from her mind.

"Shall we go in?" Sandor asked and Sansa was bought back to the moment, sitting with Sandor in the dark, quiet car. She felt alive at their closeness. Strippers aside, she was the one here with him now. She smiled.

"Yes,"

The pub was warm inside with groups of happy, tipsy people in huddles at tables, laughing and playing games. There was a dark wood bar in the middle of the room and Sandor led the way to it, pulling out a high stool for Sansa to sit upon. The man behind the bar was old with thinning hair and a polite smile.

"The usual Sandor?" He addressed Sandor who nodded and murmured a thanks before he turned to Sansa. "And what about for your friend?"

"Oh," Sansa said surprised, she wasn't a great fan of alcohol, "I'll just have a coke, thanks," she smiled sweetly and the bartender and Sandor laughed together. He handed over some crumpled notes as the bartender poured them their drinks.

"I'll be right back," Sandor turned to Sansa and gently touched her hair, "Nature calls," He turned and walked toward the bathroom, leaving Sansa sipping her drink delicately.

"You can't actually be with him?" A voice sneered from behind her and Sansa jerked her head round to face the man who it came from. He sat at another barstool, a couple away from her, with his elbow leaning on the wood towards her. He was a small, middle aged man with dark hair and a pointed beard.

"Pardon?" Her voice sounded tight despite her efforts to keep it polite. The man laughed and shook his head.

"You're not with The Hound, surely? A pretty girl like you," The man reached out his hand to touch hers and Sansa pulled it back with a disgusted look.

"Actually, I am," She said sharply, "If you'll excuse me," She stood up and turned round, walking straight into Sandor's broad chest. "Oh! Sorry!" He held her arms as he looked at her.

"Sansa, are you okay?" His dark eyes looked worried as they travelled across her face then narrowed at the sight of the man at the bar. "Petyr," He said coolly with a curt nod, steering Sansa away from him by her shoulders. "Did he bother you?" He asked as they sat at a table far away from the man.

"It's fine," Sansa shrugged, "How do you know him?"

"He works for the Lannisters," Sandor's lips turned down. "Never could stand the man, very manipulative," He took a gulp of his drink; a dark brown liquor. "What did he say to you?"

"He asked if I was with you," Sansa watched his face carefully as she said it, how his lips turned upward once more and his eyes searched hers.

"Did he now? And what did you say?"

"I said I was" Sansa smiled and winked, enjoying the way blush spread beneath Sandor's dark stubble.

"I see,"

"Is that a problem?" She reached across the wood of the table and took one of his hands in hers. He rubbed his thumb over her skin, it was rough but comforting.

"No," His scarred face lit up, "Not at all,"

* * *

"I had a really good time tonight, thank you," Sansa smiled as she sat in Sandor's truck once more, parked in front of the university; waiting for her to get out and go home. Only she didn't want to. She _had_ had a good time with him, laughing and talking. She even tried some of his drink but it tasted foul so she didn't have much.

"So did I," Sandor smiled and they sat quiet for some time before Sansa coughed awkwardly.

"Well," She tucked her hair behind her ears like she always did when she was nervous, "I suppose I had better go in,"

"Yeah, okay," Sandor said quietly as Sansa touched the door handle. "Sansa!" He reached out for her arm and she turned back to him, her blue eyes wide and her lips parted slightly.

"Yes?"

"I, uh -" Sandor bit his lip, "No it's nothing," but his hand still gripped her wrist, it was rougher than he should've, but Sansa wasn't scared. She felt protected by his touch, longed for it. She abandoned her grip on the door handle and leaned closer to him, breathing heavily as she lifted her fingers to stroke his scarred cheek. Sandor shivered and captured her hand, holding it against his face. He closed his eyes as he held her hand there.

"Sansa," he repeated quietly, opening them once more. Sansa smiled, looking at their entwined hands.

"Shh," She breathed. And daringly she closed the gap between their faces, pressing her lips to his. Sandor stiffened for a second before letting go of her hand and pulling her to him by her waist. He let out an involuntary sigh against her mouth and Sansa could feel her cheeks heating up. His lips were rough and chapped but they moved in time with hers, pulling her in for more.

When she pulled back both their faces were flushed.

"So, will I see you again?" She said, sounding more breathless than she meant to.

"Sure, Little Bird,"

"I'll see you, Sandor," She waved goodbye to him as she got out of the truck. She didn't stop grinning even when she reached her door.


	18. Chapter 18

The door made a soft sound as Arya closed it behind her. _Damn it_, she thought, pressing her head to the wood. Her mother had sharp ears, and when you're trying to sneak back in unnoticed, that can be unfortunate. Arya twisted round, tucking her hair behind her ears and sighed. In the grey, early morning light she could see her mother's shape clutching the banister of the stairs. It was hard to make out her features properly, but Arya was sure they were curved into a frown.

"Good morning," Catelyn's quiet voice seemed worn and tired, masking the scolding Arya was seeking out.

"Hi, Mum," She replied, somewhat defeated. Catelyn flicked a light switch by her head and the hallway became illuminated. Her face looked more lined than usual, etched with worry and Arya felt bad for staying out all night.

"Come and sit down, love," Catelyn stepped forward and folded Arya into her arms, burying her face into her daughter's messy hair. "I'll make you a tea, wait for me in the living room," She squeezed her daughter's shoulder before wandering into the kitchen, leaving Arya to take her place on one of the dark, squishy sofas in their living room. She wasn't usually one to care about following rules, but she felt bad for the expression on her mother's face. She supposed that if your eldest daughter has recently been sexually assaulted, it makes you more than a little nervous when your younger daughter doesn't come home after a night out. The sound of the kettle boiling from the other room was the only sound; everyone else must have been asleep still.

When Catelyn returned she offered Arya her favourite mug, the one with the cat on it, which was steaming and felt comforting when Arya wrapped her fingers around it, letting the heat leach into her skin. There was an uncomfortable pause where Arya was sure her mother was working on a profound speech and telling off but then something worse happened; Catelyn let out a long sigh and then burst into tears. Arya never saw Catelyn cry. Not when Arya was a little girl and they lost the family dog; Arya had thrown a tantrum, kicking the wall and yelling to _bring her back _whilst angry tears stained her cheeks an ugly, blotchy red. Nor when Bran had fallen from a tree and broke his leg, though she had turned a deathly pale with an expression so stern it was as if she was trying to heal him with sheer will power. Not even when Uncle Brandon had died and their father had cast his face into his hands and let out great big sobs into his palms. But Catelyn Stark was crying now.

"Mum," Arya placed her tea down and shuffled towards her mother wrapping her arms around her heaving shoulders and kissing her auburn hair. "Mum, I'm sorry, please don't cry – I won't do it again, I'll be good I promise, good like Sansa. Just, don't be sad,"

Catelyn lifted her head and let out a shuddering breath before folding her youngest daughter into an embrace.

"It's not your fault, Arya baby; I was just so worried about you. Moving here was supposed to make life better, your Dad's promotion and Sansa at a top university, but your father is stressed beyond belief, Sansa's being terrorised at her own school. I miss your older brothers, yes, even Jon!" She half laughed, it was no secret that Catelyn favoured Jon less than the other children, for he was another woman's, but she had been kinder to him as the years went by. "And I don't know what's going on with you; you never talk to me anymore! Tell me, Arya, are you happy, truly?"

Arya nodded against her mother's shoulder.

"Yeah, I met someone and, I think if I hadn't met him, college wouldn't be fun, but with him, it is," She mumbled over her words, remembering how she had agreed to being Gendry's girlfriend only hours earlier. Catelyn leaned away from her so they could lock eyes.

"This is the boy who came to pick you up?" She raised an eyebrow as Arya nodded. "So tell me about him," She picked up her mug and took a sip from it as she studied her daughter whose cheeks were reddening with blush.

"He's uh – he's called Gendry, he's nice," Arya spluttered as she tried to drink too hastily.

"If he makes you happy, then that's okay, just make sure you don't take things faster than you want," Catelyn smiled and mopped up the tea Arya spilled with the edge of her sleeve. Arya frowned as images of Gendry's face filled her mind, his smile after she told him she would date him. Her stomach did a little flip, maybe it was too soon. But she wanted him, and if she didn't get him now, someone else might. She shook her head as if to make the thoughts go away.

"You'll be okay, honey, we'll all be okay," Catelyn crooned, tucking a strand of Arya's unruly hair behind her ear. "Do you want to go to bed? You must be tired, I know I am," She laughed softly, and graced Arya's forehead with a gentle, comforting kiss, the kind only mothers can give.

"I'm sorry I scared you Mum," Arya whispered.

"It's okay, but no more all nighters, okay?" She nodded. The two headed back upstairs and parted on the landing, going to their own rooms. Arya fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.


End file.
